Calm Calamity

My mother always tells me that the best way to judge how a man will treat you is to look at how he treats his mother.

My dad was wonderful with his mom.  He would have moved mountains if it meant it would make her happy.  And every day, he moves a mountain for my mom.  He moves mountains for my sister and me.  He moves mountains for my sister’s children, as he will for mine.

He does this for no reason, other than to make sure we are as happy as he can make us.

All the men in my family are like this.  And I think this is because their fathers have shown them, through example, how to treat the important women in their lives.

I have been fortunate enough to have grown up surrounded by men who treat their women like this.

As I’ve gotten older, however, I have been exposed to men who don’t get it.  And to me, they stick out like sore thumbs.

My first serious boyfriend treated his mother terribly.  Every time I witnessed it, warning bells sounded very loudly – louder than the vuvuzela’s today.  Although we dated for over 3 years, the way he treated his mother was one of the main reasons I knew ending the relationship was the right decision.

In all fairness, I’m not sure the men in our family had much choice in the matter.

Dallas women have been brought up knowing they deserve the best, and demanding it.  However, this could be due to the fact that we have seen how our fathers treat our mothers.  It is an unvicious circle that I feel privileged to have been exposed to.

To all the men that take the time out of their busy lives to visit their mothers, who spend their precious weekends with their frail grandmothers, who remind their mothers of their love & appreciation for them – I salute you.

To all the women who show their sons how a woman should be treated and who show their daughters how women deserve to be treated, I applaud you.

For without you, the world would be far worse off.

My mother recently retired from the school where she was the headmistress.  The community asked me to give a speech at her farewell.  This is what I said to my greatest teacher:

I know a teacher who has taught for more than 30 years in many schools in various communities and stood in front of many classes with learners from different backgrounds.

Strangers who declare that they were a learner of hers at some point, often stop her.  Although this in itself does not seem to be exceptional, what leaves a lasting impression on me, is the joy and enthusiasm with which each and every old learner of hers greets this teacher.

She has inspired them, and she has imbued them, not only with knowledge and skills, but also with a zest for life.  Her learners have become her legacy.

I am sure you have heard the quote from William Arthur Ward, which says “The mediocre teacher tells.  The good teacher explains.  The superior teacher demonstrates.  The great teacher inspires”

For the past 25 years, I have been fortunate enough to have a great teacher, who has inspired me to never settle for second best, to never take things at face value and to recognize the importance of the other great teachers in my life.

Teachers who inspire realize there will always be rocks in the road ahead of us.  They will be stumbling blocks or stepping stones, it all depends on how we use them.  My teacher, my mother, has taught me that when the rock is a stumbling block, the only way to get over it, is to stand up, dust yourself off, lift your head and trust that that fall made you stronger.  My teacher has taught me that when those rocks are stepping stones, you need to handle them with grace, thanking those that helped you up to those stepping stones and then to use that opportunity to jump to the next stepping stone.

I have had many stumbling blocks, and many stepping stones.  But, thanks to my teacher, the stepping stones have taken me higher than the stumbling blocks have made me fall.  And the stumbling blocks have made me cling tighter to the stepping stones.

Someone once said that “What the teacher is, is more important than what he teaches”.

My mother has taught me that 6x6 is 36.

But who she is has taught me to never think that I am more important than the person next to me, and to never think that the person next to me is more important than I am.

Who she is has taught me to above all treat myself with love and respect and that I am right to expect that anyone who comes into my life treats me with the love and respect I demand of myself.

Who she is has taught me truth.  After all, the dream begins with the teacher who believes in you, who tugs and pushes and leads you to the next plateau, sometimes poking you with a sharp stick called “truth’.

The task of the excellent teacher is to stimulate “apparently ordinary” people to unusual effort.  The tough problem in not in identifying winners: it is in making winners out of ordinary people.  Mtunzini is blessed to have its ordinary people blossom into winners, thanks to the work done by Mary Jane at Mtunzini Primary School.

Antoine de Saint-Exupery wrote “Je sais mais une liberté et c’est la liberté de lésprit, translated “Ï know but one freedom and that is the freedom of the mind.”

Mom, my greatest teacher, you have given me with 2 things – one is roots, the other is wings. 

You have shown me, though your teachings and through your very being, how to free my mind and so, because of you, I am truly free.

For that, I would thank you from the bottom of my heart, but for you, my heart has no bottom.

The legacy and reward for your work, lives and breathes in the successes of each learner you educated.  Your work will not become a statistic, nor a discarded file, but will take flight, as our young people become the drivers and leaders of our country.

Sitting on the couch adjacent to him was pure torture.  Not being able to touch him was enough to take her to the edge of insanity. 

He walked past her and allowed his hand to graze her bare leg, setting her skin on fire.  But she couldn’t touch him; she wouldn’t allow herself to touch him.

Their hands brushed against each other, fire coming out of their fingertips.

He got up and sat down next to her, inching closer every few minutes, until she could rest her head on his shoulders, content with having just that – with someone she shouldn’t.  But tortured that she couldn’t allow herself any more than that. 

She hadn’t realized that he had gotten up, she was too focused on trying to breathe.  She hadn’t noticed that he had come back, until his hands were on her neck, his lips against her lips, his tongue exploring her mouth.

Their bodies responded accordingly, as they always had.  His hips pushed against hers, allowing her to immediately feel his reaction to her.  Her body responding to her reaction, pushing herself harder against him.  His lips explored her neck, moving down to her breasts, before returning to pay homage to her lips.

A smile spread across his face.  “Let’s go upstairs”, he whispered.

He entered her with desperation, a moment they had both been aching for since the first night they had met.  Everything about them was animalistic – her nails on his back; his teeth in her neck; his powerful, desperate thrusting, her taking more and more of him in.  They climaxed together, their wet bodies shuddering against each other, both of them gasping for air.

They were soon back in the bedroom, this time taking things a little slower.  She took off his shirt, breathing him in.  He took off her dress, his eyes capturing her body.  Their senses taking everything in.

He laid her slowly on the bed, entering her gently, feeling the tenderness and warmth inside her.  Wherever his hands and mouth went, a trail of fire was left in their wake.  Their bodies were alive for the first time, plugged into an intangible power source.

Everything about the experience was sensual – her hands holding his wrists above his head, their bodies moving in synchronicity, their lips tracing the other’s body, her moaning, his throbbing.

As someone once said, “With some people you just don’t click, but with others…Wow”

Right, Capetonians, pick up your phones and book your seats to watch Little Poof at Beefcakes, now! (021 425 9019 – www.beefcakes.co.za)

The brilliance that is Bruce J. Little shines in his genius one-man production.

Inspired by Pride, Bruce introduces us to and ensures we fall in love with an array of flamboyant queens from a variety of closets, and inspires us with Thandawami, “the Love Tokolosh”.  His humour is side-splitting.  His insight into his characters, unprecedented.  And the ability to connect with his audience makes you feel like you are the only person in the room.

In his graceful way, Bruce manages to tie in the humour from the characters with a lesson we all need to learn.  His presentation of a young character whose story you should all hear, will send a shiver through you, and make you sit up and listen.  The moral of the show, so to speak, is a moral everyone needs to be exposed to, and understand.

Personally, I started the show in tears of laughter, and it ended in tears of sadness, but at all points a smile was plastered firmly on my face.

The show runs until 24 April, bookings are essential.

Do yourselves a favour.  See it.

And if that didn’t convince you, the boys at beefcakes are so fucking ridiculously hot.

Boys are dumb and we really should throw rocks at them.  Although we know this has been tried and tested, we find ourselves throwing our hearts at them instead.  And when they fail to catch our hearts, we have to deal with the process of picking them up off the floor.

Luckily for you, I have immense experience in this and have developed a fail proof formula.  In fact, properly implemented, you could be over Mr. Wrong in 12 hours with 6 easy(ish) steps:

1. The moment it happens, you find a girlfriend.  And you talk and talk and talk until you have nothing more to say.  This way, you stay out of your head, while at the same time you get all your thoughts out onto a loving soundboard.  Friends also help in pointing out any delusions you may have.  Wine is mandatory.
2. Get rid of any trace of him.  Delete his texts, give any fluffy toys he gave you to the dog.  This rule, however, does not extend to diamonds.  Those you keep.
3. Cut all contact.  This rule is most important and the most difficult to follow, especially with today's technology.  Your heart/mind will convince you that just one text or phone call won't hurt.  But it will.  It will hurt you over and over again until you learn to follow this rule.  This rule is key to the success of the formula.
4. Get out there.  Fill up your social diary with as many events as possible. Be Fabulous!  Spread the news of your singledom.  I guarantee you there is at least one person out there rejoicing that your ex was stupid enough to let you go.
5. Get yourself an under-over guy.  You need to get under to get over.  Do not see the under-over guy as your next relationship.  This guy's sole purpose is to remind you how hot you are.  It is extremely liberating.  Remember to condomise.  AIDS and babies are not liberating.
6. Let it go.  It.is.over.  Understand this.  Know this.  Embrace this.  No matter how long you were together, it is now over.  Do not give him any more of your time.  The time is now yours - to explore your sexual freedom with your under-over guy, to develop friendships and to reaffirm your fabulousness!

Try and enjoy this process, you will learn a lot about yourself, and feel stronger for coming out the other side unscathed.